There was no moon that night. The windows of Malfoy Manor were dark save for one. In the uppermost room a single candle shivered violently in the wind.

The occupants of the room sat motionless, staring expectantly at the open window. Two empty bottles of elf made wine sat on the table between them, and a third lay half-empty on its side. A pool had formed below it, and the only sound was the steady dripping of the wine onto the floor. Narcissa Malfoy, who had once punished an elf for tracking soot into the garden-the garden!- did not care that the deep burgundy liquid was staining her white rug. She was too intent on watching the dark sky for any sign of movement.

Her husband was staring at the four boxes on the floor. The first was full of shimmering green things- A fresh set of Slytherin robes for each child, scarves and mittens emblazoned with their names, sweets in silver and green, and two "shifting quills" that turned into silver snakes when not in use.

The second box was full of the same things- but in bronze and blue for Ravenclaw. Hufflepuff yellow poked out of the third box, and a bright eyed quill-turned-badger peered over the edge at them.

The fourth box remained sealed. Lucius was certain that it would not be needed, but he had agreed to be prepared for anything.

"It should have come by now," whispered Narcissa, her eyes finding his in the near-darkness. "You don't suppose something happened on the train?"

"No," Lucius quashed that line of thinking before it had time to take flight. "We would have been notified. Severus must be busy- it is the first night, after all. I'm sure some of his new students are homesick."

He picked up his wine glass and swirled the contents.

They were in "The Lookout", a favorite room of Hermione and Draco's. When they were younger they would hole up for hours in the tiny room- pretending that they were Clothilde and Harris- the two legendary generals from the first Goblin Rebellion. Of course, then Hermione decided that Goblins should be treated as equals (Merlin, where did the child get these ideas?) and the room became less a replica of the front lines and more of a clubhouse.

Several overlarge bookshelves were crowded with books and various projects. A model ship from Draco's pirate obsession, a miniature Sphinx from when Hermione decided that she would be a curse-breaker, books of every shape, size and subject.

There was a poster of Young Morgana- Hermione's favorite childhood book character. Lucius was really quite impressed by how much the franchise had been able to pry out of him. And of course Draco had to have an equally impressive poster of Young Merlin. The two legendary figures smiled challengingly at each other from opposite sides of the room.

But Lucius eyes kept wandering to the silk Slytherin banner Hermione had discovered in the attic. It had been his grandfather's, and his daughter had loved it ever since she had first laid eyes on it nine years earlier. He remembered how she had run excitedly into his study, interrupting an important meeting.

Papa! Papa! Look what I found! Can I have Papa? Oh please say yes!

He hoped she would get in! More than anything he hoped his little girl would be given the one thing she had hoped for years. He raked his hand through his hair, and gave an impatient sigh.

"Stop fidgeting," commanded Narcissa, her eyes fixed on the window. "You're as bad as Draco."

"Draco's as bad as me," he retorted, smiling teasingly at her.

She made no move to indicate that she had heard him, and he marvelled at her ability to stare at one spot without blinking for so long.

It was her nervousness that made him feel so on edge. Her face, though beautiful as ever, was tense and eerie. The candle cast strange shadows across her pale skin, and the wine left burgundy stains across her lips. The effect was vampiric.

Suddenly, she reached out and grasped his arm so tightly that the resulting bruise lasted for more than a week.

"There!"

He saw it too. A dark shape moving speedily across the sky. "Thank Merlin," he breathed in relief. At least the knowing would be less anxious than the last few hours.

Severus' owl swooped in gracefully, deposited the letter in Narcissa's lap, and hopped back through the window before they could so much as thank it.

Not that they cared.

There was a sound of ripping parchment as Narcissa tore through the envelope. Her hands shook as she held up the parchment and read it. Then, her eyes drifted shut. Wordlessly, she thrust the letter at Lucius.

In Severus' neat handwriting were the words:

Draco is in Hufflepuff.

Hermione is is Gryffindor.

"He might've at least written a greeting," grumbled Lucius, trying to break the tension that had spread between them.

Narcissa's eyes opened, and found his. "How could this happen?" she asked, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. "After everything-"

"Well, we knew something like this might happen," he said grimly. "I can't say that I'm thrilled, but there was always something a little too… shiny, about Draco. I think we need to force ourselves to come to terms with it as best we can."

There was a moment of silence, wherein she fixed him with a look of mingled shock and disgust. "You think this is about Draco?!" She growled.

Surprise etched across his features, and he suddenly felt as if he should be speaking in careful, calm tones. "It isn't?"

The look on her face suggested that he must be quite the idiot. "Lucius, Draco has hosted a secret birthday party for Mardie every year since he was four."

"Hermione-"

"Doesn't keep anything she does for social justice a secret. She would do something like that as a demonstration, Draco does it because he loves Mardie and thinks it's unfair that elves don't have birthday parties. That, and his lifelong ambition is to be a Healer." She smiled tolerantly at him, "I can't believe you didn't see this coming."

Her face lost all mirth, "But Hermione is Slytherin to the core. There is absolutely no reason why she shouldn't be sorted- oh!"

Feeling as if he was missing something, Lucius leaned closer, "What is it?"

Her brows furrowed, "He wouldn't."

"Darling, if you don't share what you're thinking I can't follow your train of thought."

Her eyes shot to his, "What if Dumbledore tampered with the hat? Made it so that she couldn't get into Slytherin?"

"That would make sense," he mused, running his palm over the worn arm of his chair. "If she's in Gryffindor there's less of a chance for her to decide that the Dark Lord's cause is the better one."

"And he's alienated her from her peers so that she'll be more pliable to his offer of mentorship!" Narcissa spat the words as if they tasted sour. "The Slytherins will mistrust her because she's in Gryffindor, and her House-mates will turn on her because she's a Malfoy."

He considered her for a moment, "That might not be true. Hermione is very intelligent, and genuinely likeable. She'll make friends. There are certainly several Pureblood Gryffindor families that would accept her."

"Such as?"

"Well, none come to mind right now, but I'm certain they exist!"

She shot him a look full of contempt. "We should have sent her to Beauxbatons."

He picked an imaginary piece of lint from his sleeve. "Dumbledore would never have allowed that. He would have stepped in and taken her out of our custody as soon as we sent the owl."

It started to rain, and the drops spattered onto them with a soft plink!

"We should never have taken her."

Lucius flinched at her tone, and felt something twist inside of him at the thought of never having known his daughter. Without thinking, his eyes returned to the Slytherin banner. "Do you really mean that?"

Her voice was strained, "Of course not. I love Hermione almost as much as I love Draco, and we both know that Draco would have been Dumbledore's pawn if we hadn't adopted…" She picked up the wine bottle and smashed it against the window pane.

Tiny fragments of glass scattered over the floor, coated in the burgundy liquid.

Narcissa's voice rose hollow and deadly above the rain, "I think it's time to play a bigger part in this war."

XX

Hermione jolted out of bed so quickly that she got tangled in the bed hangings. She gave a yelp as she landed hard on one knee, and tumbled gracelessly to the ground.

The next thing she knew, she was staring up at Turnip's puzzled face while the sound of laughter filled her… head?

"This is too delicious," purred the voice. "I'd nearly forgotten what fun you are."

I've gone mad, thought Hermione, her heart thumping in panic.

The voice, it seemed, found this even more hilarious than Hermione's fall. There was another burst of laughter.

New tears filled Hermione's eyes as she imagined herself being locked away in St. Mungo's for the rest of her life. She'd had such dreams! She was going to be Minister, and now…

"Oh don't start that," sniffed the voice in a less jovial tone, "That's no fun at all. If I wanted self-pity I could stay in my own head."

But I've gone mad, thought Hermione bleakly. She figured she might as well talk to the voice that heralded the fall of her hopes and dreams.

There was a snort, "You're not mad, Doveling. Far from it, I'd say."

Then why am I talking to myself?

"You're not. You're talking to me."

Hermione sat up, rubbing her aching knee. Isn't it the same thing?

"Not at all. You're you, and I'm me."

That sounds an awful lot like something I'd tell myself to convince myself that I'm not mad.

The voice was getting impatient with this line of thinking, it seemed. "Fine, you're mad. Happy?"

Hermione frowned, and reached up to stroke Turnip's ear.

"I always imagined that you'd be slightly happier to hear me again." the voice sulked, "It's been nearly six years. I know you can't be the same girl I spoke to last, but you must have missed me a little bit."

Feeling somewhat embarrassed, as if she had unintentionally shunned a friend of her parents, Hermione asked, I'm sorry, have we met before?

There was a long silence, in which the only sound that could be heard was Turnip's panting.

"Yes. We've met before. We used to be great friends."

There was something vaguely familiar about the voice. Something almost soothing. It was as if Hermione were looking at something through a thick fog- something she was trying to identify.

Bella?

There was a jolt of emotion not her own- something tingly and excited that made the hair on her arms stand on end.

"You know me?"

Hermione felt a stab of regret, No. Not really. But I know of you. I overheard my parents talking about you when I was younger.

"Nothing good, I imagine."

I don't know, I didn't hear much beyond my name- and then yours. Papa saw me and changed the subject.

The voice, Bella, seemed disappointed by this. Hermione could not help feeling as if she had let down whoever the voice belonged to.

I'm sorry.

"Don't be sorry, Dove. It's not your doing. You didn't see it coming, but if you had I imagine you would have felt as poorly as I did. You were quite attached to me."

See what coming?

There was another rush of emotions, but this time Hermione recognized the anger that boiled deep in her stomach.

I've felt that before.

"Felt what?"

That feeling. The anger that wasn't mine. My parents call it the 'unexplainables.'

There was another snort, this one much more derisive than the other. "Liars. They've been trying to keep you from me. They, and that crackpot old fool Dumbledore took you away from me-"

Why?

"Why what?"

Why would they try to keep you away from me?

But already Hermione felt as if she knew the answer. She felt as if she had been caught doing something very naughty. Turnip's fur was changing before her eyes from blue to orange, and she summoned up the energy to say the words-

I'm not supposed to know about you.

"But you already do," came the hot retort. "And besides, none of that matters. We've been tied together- nothing can change that. Nothing at all."

The way she said those words, Nothing at all, made Hermione feel very small. Her throat grew thick and painful, and fresh tears poured down her cheeks. Turnip's fur was now a swirl of orange, blue and black. He looked as if someone had chucked several cans of paint at him.

"Stop that! You're ruining everything!"

Hermione made no reply, she simply sobbed into the velvet hangings.

"Don't you realize that I've been dreaming of this moment for years. You're supposed to tell me that you've missed me terribly, and that you hate old Dumbledore for what he did. I had a revenge plan and everything!"

Nothing could be said to that. Hermione wanted to apologize for not remembering, but fear overrode all of her other emotions.

"Why were you crying?"

Wh-what?

There was a sigh, "I asked why you were crying before you went into hysterics about me?"

Oh, Hermione wiped her eyes, and tried to focus on the conversation. If she ignored the fact that there was no one else in the room, it was almost the same as speaking to any other adult. The- the hat put me in Gryffindor.

"No!"

Yes, she affirmed miserably. The hat said that Slytherin wouldn't take me because my birth parents were Muggles. Should she be telling that to the strange voice in her head?

"Did it now? Well, well. I didn't know old Dumbly… But why are you crying, this is great news!"

It is?

There was an affirmative hum. "Do you really want to be pampered and adored in Slytherin? It'll make you lazy and overly confident. No, the little girl I knew did her best when something was working against her. You're a fighter- and this is the best practice to get you ready for what's coming!"

I don't want to fight anymore.

"That's why I'm here. To help keep you up until you find your footing."

Hermione frowned. But I'm not supposed to-

Let's make a deal then. We'll do everything on your terms. I won't talk to you about anything you don't want me to, and I promise that I'll never lie to you. Only please don't shut me out again. I've missed you terribly these past few years.

These words were like a balm to the lonely, heartbroken little girl. And you won't ask me to do anything… bad? Her entire body told her this was a terrible idea. She should be heading straight to Uncle Alb- to Professor Dumbledore to tell him. But that voice- it was like being wrapped in a warm blanket after a long walk in the rain.

When the answer came, Bella's voice was strained, as if she were trying very hard not to laugh. "No, I won't ask you to do anything bad. I'll be the sweetest, goodest, most virtuous friend you've ever had."

...Ok.

There was that strange tingling once again. And for a moment Hermione could have sworn she felt her stomach begin to warm, but the feeling was gone in a flash.

"Now, get ready for bed before your fellow firsties come in and think you're the kind of girl who sobs into her bedding."

Hermione did so immediately. She tucked her wand beneath her pillow, and pulled the now-grey Turnip to her as she slid beneath the covers. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her, and for a moment she wondered if she had hallucinated the last few minutes.

Then, the voice poured into her head once more. "Now, my little doveling, have I ever told you the story of how your Mother nearly died trying to catch a pixie in our garden?"

No, Hermione's thoughts came sluggishly as she tried to stay awake.

"She somehow got it into her mind that a pixie would make an excellent pet- idiot. And there was a nest of them in the woods behind our childhood home. Have you ever- well, nevermind that now, we have plenty of time to catch up. Anyway, one night she snuck out of our room…"

Bellatrix continued to speak until she was certain Hermione was sleeping. Then, with a contented sigh, she watched Hermione's dreams float through the girl's mind. For the first time in years she felt as if she could breathe.

And this time, my little dove, she vowed, I am not going anywhere.

A/N: Sorry it took so long. Things have been a little rough the last couple of months. But yay! New chapter! Thank you so much to everyone for your reviews, favorites and follows. You all are the best motivation.

Please let me know what you think of the latest chapter!